


Christmas Lights

by MarshOnTheMellow



Category: Hyper Light Drifter
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Drama, Fluff, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of blood and injuries, SO MUCH FLUFF, because this is HLD, driftguard, kind of, like a tiny bit of drama and a drop of angst if you squint, yes this is a christmas fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 12:19:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13146573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarshOnTheMellow/pseuds/MarshOnTheMellow
Summary: Drifter may not have a home, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have shelter. When the seasons change, there's one hearth that will always welcome him in with open arms.





	Christmas Lights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lifewhatisthat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifewhatisthat/gifts).



For a second, Drifter thought the warp had failed.

He had just finished his fight against the Hierophant, up in the northern Mountains, and had been eager to get back to Central Town for a bit of rest. Injured, out of med-packs, near hypothermic and coughing up blood that was quickly crusting over in the cold, he had limped his way down the stairs as quickly as he could and collapsed onto the pad.

He had barely felt himself demolecularize.

But now, even with the pad working its magic on his wounds, he thought that maybe he would have to make the long, freezing trek down the Mountains anyways. It was still cold, so _so_ cold, and a thick blanket of snow still covered everything around him. As he gathered himself up, he even saw snowflakes calmly float down to the ground in front of him.

Which, he noticed belatedly, was really unlike the usual violent snowstorms that battered the mountainsides and mountain peaks.

The harsh mechanical whirring of a door sliding open followed by the soft crunch of footsteps had him snap his head up towards the sounds, and he caught the faintest flash of pink before he felt hands gripping his arm and encircling his waist, pulling him up to his feet.

He stumbled a bit, hands coming up to stabilize against hard-plate metal armor, and he stared into two familiar blue eyes. Distantly, he felt himself grinning wide under his mask.

“Are you alright?” said Guardian, voice filled with concern. Drifter couldn’t help the warmth that blossomed in his chest at the tone. “I heard your companion sound its medical aid alarm.”

Drifter simply shrugged and let himself be guided into the house, sheltered from the cold under Guardian’s cloak. They both knew the warp pad healed all superficial damage, and his sprite was no longer flashing the black-and-white cross that would otherwise indicate a need for emergency care. But if Guardian wanted to fuss over him…

The door whirred shut behind them, and Drifter instantly felt himself start to warm. Guardian’s hand dropped from where he had been clutching his bicep, but the arm supporting his waist dropped down to his hip, and Drifter felt blood rush to his cheeks as he was escorted down the hallway and to the bed that occupied the center of the room.

As they passed the kitchen, Guardian swiped a lukewarm glass of water that had been sitting on the dinner table, as well as a napkin, and offered them to Drifter. Both knew that, as good as the warp pads were at healing injuries, they couldn’t heal the diseases within. And both knew that, even if they were to escape a battle unscathed, Judgement would never let them go without the taste of blood filling their mouths, one way or another.

Drifter was simply thankful that Guardian didn’t comment of it. That way, he didn’t have to acknowledge it.

 “I didn’t think it snowed this far down,” he remarked instead. He sat down on the soft blankets, already missing the warmth at his side when Guardian stepped back towards the kitchen. “The place was in the middle of summer only a few days ago, when I left.”

Clattering utensils and the sound of water boiling carried down the hallway. Drifter tugged down his mask and, using the water and cloth, washed out the blood from his mouth as Guardian rifled through the cupboards.

He could see the warrior nod. “The seasons change quickly,” Guardian explained. “The first snow fell as I arrived back from the Mountains myself. And you would be correct, Central’s weather doesn’t usually change this much, even at Yuletide. The temperature rarely drops below freezing. I’m glad I was here for your return though. You can stay here for as long as you want, for shelter from the cold.”

Drifter still couldn’t really feel his mouth, but a small smile stretched across his face regardless. “Thank you, Guardian,” he said. “I do appreciate it. But I should make my way eastwards as soon as I am able.” He scuffed the tip of his boots on the floor, eyes downcast, the smile dropping from his lips. He wasn’t looking forward to it, but he had to go. In fact, they both did.

More clattering, then the click of a boiler turning off and the sound of a bag being ripped open. Still staring at the floor, he heard Guardian walk back down the hallway towards him and didn’t look up until turquoise-tipped boots filled his vision. An arm pressed against his right shoulder, and Drifter could practically feel the heat radiate from the two mugs Guardian was holding.

“I understand,” the older warrior said. “But you should also rest, at least for a day.” He then nudged Drifter to his feet. “Here, come closer to the fire.”

Drifter let himself be guided towards the hearth on the other side of the room, saying nothing of the shivers that were almost entirely gone anyways. He sat down on the floor and scooted over when Guardian did as well, and closed his fingers around the mug that was offered to him. He breathed in the sweet smell of chocolate and had to stifle a snort at the colored marshmallows floating inside the cup.

“This should help against the cold,” murmured Guardian, and Drifter bit his lip at the fondness coloring the warrior’s voice, a shiver crawling up his spine that had nothing to do with the low temperature outside. Guardian frowned. “Oh, should I get some blankets as well?”

He made a move to get up, but Drifter was quick to snatch the fabric of his sleeve and tug him back down beside him. And in a flash, Drifter contemplated the worry, the care, the gentleness in Guardian’s actions, how he always helped however he could, unprompted and without ever expecting something in return, and he took a chance.

He kissed him. Just a quick peck on the lips.

He immediately busied himself by taking a sip of hot chocolate, staring straight ahead towards the fire, completely unwilling to return the piercing gaze that he _knew_ was being directed at him.

Seconds that felt like minutes that felt like hours passed in silence.

Then suddenly, Drifter felt a weight drape over his shoulders and fur tickle is neck, and an arm encircle his shoulders and the warmth of a body slump against his side. He smiled and snuggled closer, practically swimming under the pink fur-lined cloak, as he and Guardian spent the rest of the evening simply enjoying their drinks, the fire, and each other’s company.


End file.
